The Golden City
by Trackies
Summary: Being champion isn't all it's cracked up to be. Every year the best of the best come to challenge us to try and claim our title. They don't think about the other side – the responsibilities we're expected to uphold. Sometimes we just can't catch a break.


Disclaimer: No . . . no.

Summary: Being champion isn't all its cracked up to be. Every year the best of the best come to challenge us to try and claim our title. They don't think about the other side – the responsibilities we're expected to uphold. Sometimes we just can't catch a break.

Author's Note: This is an attempt at a _Noire-_style story. It'll be dark and gritty with violence and blood. With that in mind, I hope you read on.

* * *

Chapter One: The Unfortunate Professor

* * *

Professor Palmer was always so full of energy, despite being old enough to be Cynthia's grandfather. His white hair and silver-streaked beard was trimmed short and showed no sign of receding, unlike the majority of men his age. He chuckled when he saw Cynthia and embraced her tightly. "Thank you for coming, dear," he said warmly. "How are you?"

Cynthia returned the embrace and smiled. She was nearly as tall as Professor Palmer, but the force of his presence always seemed to add an extra few inches to his height. "I'm well, Professor. I've been looking forward to seeing this 'extraordinary progress' of this mystery project you spoke of over the transceiver."

"All in good time." Professor Palmer released Cynthia and smiled. "And please call me Palmer, I think we're past polite titles, don't you think?"

"I think you're right," Cynthia said with a crooked smile.

"Dear, when am I ever wrong?" Palmer said with a laugh. "Now, follow me and make sure you don't leave my side. We've had some unfortunate security issues over the past two weeks and my head of security is a little on edge."

Palmer gestured towards an elevator on the far end of the laboratory foyer. Cynthia's high-heeled shoes clinked loudly against the polished white tiles as she crossed the foyer beside Palmer.

"What kind of security problems have you been having?" Cynthia asked.

Palmer raised his hand dismissively. "Mr Dillon, our head of security, believes that there has been some tampering with security footage by the emergency exit and the main laboratory area. He has questioned the vast majority of my staff, but has been unable to discovery anything of note."

"Surely if the security feed has been tampered with it would be cause for concern," Cynthia said.

"Mr Dillon is extremely dedicated to the security of this facility," said Palmer as he swiped his I.D. badge across the scanner pressed the 'down' button next to the elevator door. "But lately he has been taking that admirable dedication to extreme levels and it is making the staff uneasy."

"You think he is imagining a security breach?"

Palmer winced. "I think 'exaggerating' is a more suitable term."

The elevator doors opened smoothly without a sound. Palmer invited Cynthia to step inside first before he followed her inside and pressed the button for one of the lower basement floors.

"What do the rest of the security team have to say about the tampered footage?" Cynthia asked as the elevator began to move downwards.

"They're investigating – although they are far more moderate about the investigation that Mr Dillon would like. Don't misunderstand, they are taking the investigation seriously, but in far calmer manner than Mr Dillon would himself."

"I see."

"Please don't be concerned about this, Cynthia. I have increased security around the premises in case the problem proves to be more than human error."

The elevator slowed and its doors slid open as soundlessly as they had before. Cool, crisp air flowed through a series of air vents throughout the pure white corridors of the basement levels. The airflow was strong enough to make Cynthia's long blonde hair push against her bottom. Not for the first time Cynthia considered having her hair cut to a more manageable length.

Palmer lead Cynthia to a security checkpoint outside a pair of doors made of thick metal. The security guards on duty sprang to their feet as Palmer and Cynthia approached. Both of the guards carried handguns and a pair of pokéball at their belts.

"Professor," they both said almost at the same time.

"Biggs, Wedge," said Palmer, acknowledging them both.

The guards parted to allow Palmer through the checkpoint, but when Cynthia tried to follow, the guard called Biggs held out his hand to stop her. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but you need to relinquish your pokémon."

"The laboratory is in as much danger from Cynthia as it is from me, Biggs," said Palmer.

Biggs looked uncertain for a moment. "It's protocol. I'm sorry, but there are no exceptions outside of laboratory staff."

Cynthia looked at Palmer, who shrugged and nodded. "It's all right," she said to Biggs as she unclipped the three pokéballs she had with her from her belt. She felt naked without them safely secured.

"They'll be kept safe," Biggs assured her as he took the pokéball and opened a small, electronic safe underneath the table he had been sitting at.

"Cynthia," the other guard, Wedge, said thoughtfully. "You wouldn't happen to be the Sinnohan Champion, would you?"

"I am," replied Cynthia.

Wedge perked up considerably. He delved into his desk drawers and pulled out an issue of Pokémon Monthly. A photograph of Cynthia wearing very little clothing was printed on the cover. Cynthia felt the tips of her ears turn red - she remembered that particular photoshoot vividly.

"Could you sign this for me?" Wedge asked. He looked a little red too.

"Of course." Cynthia took the magazine and the black marker he offered her and signed her name in large letters at the bottom right corner of the cover. Wedge looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

"If you're done . . . ?" Palmer raised a bushy white eyebrow.

"Yes, of course, Professor!" Wedge waved Cynthia past the checkpoint, all the while smiling broadly, while Biggs stepped up and swiped his security card across another scanner between the metal doors. Palmer scanned his card on a separate scanner on the wall and with a confirming _beep_, the metal doors clicked unlocked. Palmer turned the door handle and pushed the doors open. Cynthia followed him through the doors and into a large spacious room.

Dozens of air vents lined the tops of the four walls, each filling the room with cool air just like they had in the security hallway and the elevator. Several desks made from reinforced glass were placed at regular intervals across the room. Dominating the laboratory was a circular platform which was raised about knee height above the gleaming floor. In the middle of the platform, surrounded by a variety of beeping and whirling machines sat a kadabra. A laboratory technician was examining a blinking metal collar around the kadabra's neck. Different coloured wires and chords linked the collar to the machines on the platform.

The kadabra stared at Cynthia and Palmer through hooded eyes as they approached the platform.

"How's everything going, Thatcher?" Palmer asked the technician working with the kadabra.

"Everything is perfect so-far, professor," Thatcher said. "The tech is running smoothly; Zen has been calm."

"Good, good." Palmer turned to Cynthia and said, "The kadabra's name is Zen. Of all the test subjects we've used, he has shown the most promise."

The kadabra's eyes seemed to bore into Cynthia.

Cynthia turned to Palmer and asked, "What's the purpose of the collar?"

"That collar is what I've been working on for much of the last three years, dear." Palmer replied. He looked like he was brimming with excitement. "As for its purpose, that's why I've invited you here."

Cynthia frowned and looked at the collar again. Her eyes suddenly widened and she looked back at Palmer in surprise. "Surely not!?" she exclaimed.

Palmer winked at her.

Thatcher finished setting up the collar around Zen's neck and dusted his hands. "I think that's it, professor," he said with a wide smile. We're ready to proceed when you give the word."

"Excellent." Palmer clapped his hands together and stood by the machinery next to Zen. Aside from the whirling of computers and other machinery, silence fell around the lab. Palmer drew himself up to his full height. Cynthia would never have thought of him as a frail old man in that moment.

"This is the moment we have been working towards." Palmer addressed the other scientists and technicians. It seemed like he was speaking to each one of them individually instead of to them all. "All of the late nights and early mornings; truly _countless_ pots of coffee and take-out deliveries; hours-upon-hours of working in this laboratory – 20,986, to be exact, give or take a couple of hundred." A small laugh emerged from the scientists and technicians.

Cynthia was silent. _Tech humour._

"Nonetheless," Palmer continued. "After today, everything will be worth it."

The entire room seemed to hold its breath in anticipation as Palmer turned around and pressed a few buttons on Zen's collar. A green light near when Palmer had pressed the buttons flickered into life.

"Zen?" Palmer said.

The kadabra looked at Palmer and opened his mouth. Instead of speaking his name, like all other pokémon, Zen said in a robotic voice which sounded much like Palmer's baritone. "Professor Palmer."

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I . . . do." Zen replied. "The test is successful, then."

Applause erupted from the crew of scientists and technicians. Palmer leaned back and smiled widely. "Astounding," he exclaimed with a laugh. "This is simply astounding!"

Cynthia found herself applauding along with the rest of the crew. Scientists had been trying for years to build devices that would allow humans to understand pokémon, but there had never been any success before now. And it had been dear, dear Professor Palmer who had made the breakthrough!

"A kadabra's brain is much like a human brain, you know. They are very intelligent pokémon," Palmer said to Cynthia after pausing to shake a technician's hand. Several crew members had approached Zen and were talking with the pokémon with a mixture of excitement and caution. "That's the reason we were able to get the device working."

"It's . . . amazing, Palmer." Cynthia said.

Palmer nodded and stroked his beared. "People and pokémon have an uncanny relationship," he said, perhaps more to himself than Cynthia. "Pokémon are often able to understand humans when we speak – how much they understand depends on the pokémon and how long they have spent around humans. The closer the bond grows between a person and their pokémon, the more they are able to understand each other. I imagine that as champion, you would know this better than most."

Cynthia nodded. She often felt like she understood what her pokémon were trying to say to her – especially with her garchomp.

"With this device it will be possible for trainers to communicate with their pokémon and converse as they would with another human. It is truly remarkable. I can scarcely imagine all of the possibilities this device would allow." Palmer's eyes seemed to positively _glow. "_Of course there is much more work to be done before that's possible. Right now the device is only calibrated for Zen's specific brain patterns. The next step is to test the device on other kadabra – find a way to accelerate the calibration process. . . ." Palmer's voice descended into mutterings. His eyes were looking slightly red-rimmed, like he was about to start crying.

Cynthia's own eyes were feeling fuzzy. She hadn't noticed before, it seemed to come on so suddenly. One of the celebrating technicians suddenly pitched forward, his legs had become stiff and refused to bend at the knee. The technician's head hit the side of the raised platform. Blood spread across the floor.

Cynthia reached for her pokéball, but her hand brushed against her belt leather. _They're in the security checkpoint_! She remembered with a stab of panic.

Around her, the team of scientists and lab technicians were either falling stiffly to the ground or had frozen in place. Cynthia could feel her own body stiffening, she struggled to move her joints – or even flex her fingers. She toppled over and hit the tiled floor hard. A thin layer of golden powder swirled in agitation and drifted away from Cynthia's breath. Palmer was standing erect beside Cynthia; he had been standing straight even to remain upright.

_Stun spore!?" _Cynthia thought incredulously. "_But from where?"_ She figured it out almost as soon as she thought the question. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the golden powder being blown through the air vents in the walls.

_I should have noticed?_ She berated herself. She had been too focused on Zen talking with that collar; she hadn't been paying attention to anything else. She hoped that Zen would be able to move, or at least be able to do _something_, but it seemed like the kadabra was just as paralysed as they were – psychic powers or not.

She heard the security doors open and footsteps click across the tile. Hope and relief swelled in Cynthia's breast for the faintest moment, before the realism of the situation hit home: this wasn't the rescue team.

"Looks like your brother won't be dying tonight, Two," a man with a deep voice said. His voice sounded muffled and when one of the newcomers walked into Cynthia's sight she saw why. Each of the men was wearing a gas mask overtop of a full facemask. They were dressed in different kinds of suits. The one in front of Cynthia was wearing a forest green blazer with a pair of dark dress pants.

"He knows what he's doing," the man named Two replied.

The man with the deep voice spoke again, "Four, you go back to the checkpoint and search those guards. Two and Three, snatch an ID card from one of these poor scientists and take what we need from the back room."

The men called Two and Three appeared in Cynthia's vision as they jumped onto the platform and tore Palmer's ID badge from around his neck. They crossed the room quickly and waved the ID badge in front of one of the white wall tiles. After a moment there was a flash and a section of wall slid open. The two men in suits disappeared inside.

"What do we have here?" the man with the green blazer and dark pants said to himself as he stepped onto the platform and examined Zen and the collar.

The man with the deep voice stepped into Cynthia's line-of-sight. He was wearing the same gasmask as the rest of them, but he was wearing a crisp, black suit complete with cufflinks. "Take it," he said. "The kadabra's pokéball will be around here somewhere."

Both men disappeared from Cynthia's sight. She lay helpless for several minutes before the man with the green blazer came back with a pokéball and returned the paralysed Zen, collar and all. He pocketed the pokéball and sat in the padded chair Zen had been in. He crossed his legs and gazed around the room, until his eyes fell on Cynthia.

"Well, well," he said as he stood back up and approached her. "What's the champion of Sinnoh doing in a place like this?"

"What?" the man with the deep voice said.

"This here is Cynthia Jenness," the man in the green blazer said. "I'd stake my life on it, I would."

The man with the deep voice seemed to scowl – not that Cynthia could tell through the gasmask and facial coverings. "She must know the dear Professor Palmer."

"Perhaps we could take her with us," the man in green said. He knelt down besides Cynthia and leered at her.

"No," the man with the deep voice replied. "I mean it."

The man in green sighed regretfully. "I've never had a champion before," he said as he reached towards Cynthia and began unbuttoning her blouse.

Cynthia felt rage and mortification overwhelm whatever fear she was feeling. She tried to ball her fist and swing it at the man, but she still couldn't move no matter how hard she tried.

"Does she have any pokémon on her?" the deep-voiced asked. He had turned his back to Cynthia and the green man, as if he did not want to see what the man in green was doing.

The man in green sighed again and quit unbuttoning Cynthia's shirt. He pushed aside her thick coat and felt along her waist and inside her pockets. "She's bare," he said.

"They probably made her leave them at the checkpoint," the deep-voiced man said. "Good for us. If she had had them on her this would not be going down so easily."

The man in green snorted and pulled his black glove off of one hand. "You had best make sure Four is checking everywhere. A champion's pokémon will be worth a pretty penny."

"Too bad the experienced ones refuse to listen to anyone aside from their master." The deep-voiced man checked his watch and said, "We had better get out of here. The police will be showing up any minute now."

The deep-voiced man walked out of Cynthia's sight.

"Now, where were we," the man in green said to Cynthia in a low voice. He flexed his pale, long-fingered hand and reached into Cynthia's blouse. She felt his fingers push aside her bra and grope her breast.

Cynthia was sickened. She wanted to shower and scrub herself until her skin was red and raw.

The man in green squeezed her nipple between two fingers and caressed her breast once more before withdrawing his hand and stroking Cynthia's cheek. "I'm going to need something special to get the thought of you out of my head, champion," he said lasciviously.

Cynthia wanted to curl in on herself – no, she wanted to unleash the full force of her garchomp on his man, but instead she was forced to watch him stand up, pull his glove back on and walk away.

The two men who had disappeared into the back room came running out carrying computer hard drives and pieces of machinery.

"What do we do with the professor?" one of the men asked the deep-voiced man who had walked back into the room. He was holding a pokéball loosely in his hand. Cynthia's despair seemed to fold in on itself as she focused on the pokéball. She would recognise her garchomp's pokéball even if it was in a pile with one hundred others. If he had her garchomp, he must have the others as well.

"Kill him," the man with the deep voice said after a moment.

Cynthia's eyes opened wide – it was all she could do with the stun spore still affecting her body. She wanted to scream and rush to stop the man in green as he pulled a pistol from his blazer's inner pocket and pointed it at Professor Palmer's head.

The gunshot echoed through the laboratory. The force sent Palmer's aged body heavily to the platform next to Cynthia in a puddle of blood.

Tears filled Cynthia's eyes. She had never felt so helpless before in her life. Even when she had been mugged when she was first starting out as a trainer she had been able to release her little gible and fend off the attacker.

"Let's get the hell out of here," the man with the deep voice said.

The man in green put the gun back in his pocket and looked from Palmer's body to Cynthia. Through the gas mask she could see him smile and wink.

Cynthia was forced to lie still with tears of grief and anger and frustration ran down her face. Palmer's blood spread across the platform, soaking Cynthia's long hair and touching her cheek. She forced herself to remember the man in green's eyes. Those grey eyes bore into her mind, when she closed her eyes she could see them again.

She would remember those eyes. She would not forget.


End file.
